pub and behind the bar, Ryan waved them goodbye at the foot of the stairs. With Ash behind him, still

smiling that breath taking smile, Fizz decided the best course of action was to look away, and get up

those stairs as quickly as possible.

Fizz knew everyone thought he was strange, but he wasn’t stupid. This set up couldn’t have been

more obvious. A part of him felt slightly indignant at the realisation, but that small part was quickly

snuffed out by the impending wave of anxiety that wanted to floor him. Halfway up the stairs

however, that strange, icy hot touch pressed onto his neck again.

“Relax. Walk into the kitchen.”

Fizz breathed in deep, and gave into the inevitable. Minutes later, he was sat at the kitchen table.

Ash moved around the kitchen, chatting away about what food options there were. “I’m afraid it’s

curry, curry, or curry.” He laughed. “How lame is that? All this lot have here is rice and curry sauce.

Oh, and some manky looking pasta. Let’s see what’s in the fridge.” He opened the refrigerator door

and half disappeared as he bent over, rooting around inside. Fizz’s eyes fell on his neat behind, clad in

tight jeans. There was a patch, a logo of some sort, sewn over one of the jeans pockets, on Ash’s left

butt cheek. Fizz tried to read the words, concentrating hard. Just like that, his dream-like state faded

away; the clear panic of reality came crashing back to him. He tore his eyes away from staring at Ash

and stared down at his hands instead, clenched tightly in his lap. His heat thumped, and his cheeks

burned hot. He bit down on his lower lip, concentrating on the pain in a bid to calm down.

Ash was still chatting, mostly to himself. Fizz couldn’t reply, not right now. This didn’t even feel

like his usual panic, but it was still debilitating. He felt embarrassed, useless, and somewhat angry at

himself. Just calm down, he thought. Calm, calm.

Perhaps sensing Fizz wasn’t likely to reply, Ash said something about seeing what was on TV. Fizz

was used to that; people gave up talking to him eventually, and tried to fill the long silences with

something else. He dreaded the TV. All those ghastly images, news reports of endless misery...

As Ash began flicking through the channels, briefly resting on the news, Fizz brought a hand up to

his face. As subtly as he was able, he tilted his face down and shielded his eyes, hoping Ash wouldn’t

choose the news.

The TV turned off. Fizz glanced up in surprise, dropping his hand. Ash looked at him, a thoughtful

frown on his face. “You don’t like the news, huh?”

Flushing hard, Fizz shook his head. “S-Sorry.”

“No worries,” Ash said. “The news sucks anyway. Look, this TV only has minimal channels or

whatever, but I know Ryan has hundreds of DVDs in his room. Wait two seconds.” Ash hurried out of

the kitchen. Fizz heard his footsteps thump down the hall, as if he was running. He winced to himself.

Now he felt awful for making Ash run around like that. The guilt started to well up inside. Before it

could eat away at him, that icy touch tickled his neck again.

“Relax.”

Fizz breathed in, and out. He kept doing that until Ash returned, grinning, holding a stack of DVDs.

“What shall we watch? Personally, I’m all for Austin Powers. This one –” He held up a DVD. “ –has

Michael Cain in it. Totally awesome.”

“Okay,” Fizz said, relieved not to be faced with the decision of choosing.

“You sure?” Ash asked. “What about any of these others?”

“No, honestly. That one’s fine.”

“Okay.” Ash smiled, wrenching open the DVD case. “You seen it before?”

Fizz shook his head.

“You haven’t seen Goldmember?” Ash’s smile grew wide. “Oh, you are in for a treat. I love the

dancing in this, especially when Britney pops up in the beginning, she turns into a Fembot...” Ash kept

talking as he loaded the DVD, and turned the TV on again. Fizz felt swept away by his sheer

enthusiasm; it filled the room. Usually the kitchen felt...kind of stuffy, like the rest of the place. But

with Ash here, it felt warmer, lighter, more homely.

The movie started, and Fizz relaxed knowing that he wasn’t going to be subjected to the evening

news. Ash had also picked up on the fact that Fizz couldn’t make a decision to save his life. The

subject of what to eat wasn’t broached again. Ash didn’t ask Fizz to choose, he simply started cooking

with pots and pans at the stove. He turned around every now and then to point and smile at the movie,

and offer his own feedback on it. Mostly along the lines of, “I love this bit!”

Fizz found himself watching Ash more than he watched the movie. Ash moved about the kitchen

with confidence and ease, tending three pots at once, while still watching the TV. Fizz felt like he

should be doing something, but he was utterly useless in the kitchen, always had been. Their kitchen

back home was tiny, and his mother had always snapped at anyone who dared step foot in it. Fizz

didn’t have a great deal of interest in food for himself anyway, but he had to admit sitting here with

Ash was...pleasant.

When he’d sat in here with Ginger it had almost felt like some form of punishment; being made to

eat, every mouthful watched. The panic over Ginger resenting him, which was bound to happen soon,

that was what shrivelled Fizz’s appetite. Then the never ending questions that churned over and over

in his mind. Why should he get food? Why should he be allowed to enjoy comforts when so many

others didn’t? And now what was he doing? Sitting here, being waited on by possibly the most

gorgeous boy he’d ever met, and all he could do was panic, and feel guilty about receiving a dinner.

“Stop thinking,” the voice hissed. “Relax.”

Fizz felt a tingle run up his spine, and he shuddered. Ash noticed but didn’t comment on it. In fact,

he purposely started talking about the current scene in the movie, as if to distract him. Fizz

appreciated that. He liked the way Ash didn’t seem to need a response from him; he kept chatting

away, as if he were completely comfortable doing so. Ash did pause at times, but he didn’t wait too

long for a reply from Fizz.

The conversation was all one sided yet seemed to flow naturally. Caught up with the chat, and

feeling more calm than he could ever remember feeling, even when he’d been zoned out on meds, Fizz

felt a strong urge to join in. It started with a nod, a shy glance, then a soft hum of agreement, and even

working up to a smile. Ash kept talking, not making a big deal out of anything.

Anyone would think this was all perfectly normal to him.

When dinner was ready, Ash quickly set the table with cutlery, glasses of fruit cordial, then laid out

two plates of steaming hot curry. The rice was fluffy, yellow, and smelled faintly of lemon. The sauce

was almost amber in colour, with spices and vegetables, and a drizzle of something white on top.

“That’s yoghurt,” Ash said, noting Fizz’s frown. “I found some natural yoghurt in the fridge. Bit of a

surprise, that! Maybe it was Matt’s.” He chuckled.

Fizz nodded. Ash sat down opposite him, and picked up his fork. “Hope it tastes all right,” he said.

Looking from the beautiful dinner in front of him to the even more beautiful boy across the table,

the smile Fizz wanted to show suddenly faltered. This is weird. What was this? A date? Panic flowed

through him like ice, threatening to take over. He didn’t want a panic attack now. Please, not now.

“Relax. Say, thank you.”

Hearing the words spoken in his head reminded Fizz of his manners. “Thank you,” he said.

“No worries,” Ash replied. “Honestly, if you don’t like it, no sweat. A toast binge is always a fall